Print
by Tashilover
Summary: Castiel learns that by touching the handprint on Dean's arm, it can restore his Grace. Dean, however, is hesistant. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

"That should've faded by now."

Dean made a mental note to never dress in front of the angel ever again. All Dean did was switch out his shirt, but he didn't like how Castiel's eyes practically _roamed _his naked torso for the brief five seconds of changing. "Uh?"

"What should've faded?" Sam asked from his spot in front of his laptop.

"The handprint," Castiel said to him, gesturing to Dean's shoulder. "From when I gripped him hard-"

"And raised me from perdition," Dean finished lamely for him. "Yeah, we got the cliff notes Cas. What do you mean, it should've faded? I thought this thing was permanent."

"No. It is a burn, but it should've healed by now. It looks as red and raw from the day you came back. It should not look like that."

Dean frowned and lifted the sleeve of his shirt, exposing the handprint. He briefly touched the raised skin with his fingers, though the flesh was too damaged to register any sensation.

"I don't know, Cas," Sam shrugged. "Dean is the first to be raised from Hell. Maybe it's supposed to be a permanent print. Does it really matter?"

Once again, Dean squirmed internally from the look Castiel is giving him, those blue eyes locked onto his arm. He doesn't pull away though when the angel got close and hovered his fingers above the scar.

Castiel's expression became slightly surprised. "I can sense a faint amount of Grace in this scar…" He looked to Dean. "May I?"

Dean played with the idea of saying _No. _Castiel seriously needed to learn the boundaries of personal space and now would be the perfect time for such a lesson. But the way Castiel had that longing look on his face, and since he didn't really have a great reason to deny him, Dean grunted, "Whatever rocks your boat."

Castiel cocked his head in confusion.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, Cas. You can touch it."

He had expected nothing. After all, the handprint was just scar tissue- practically dead skin. So when Castiel laid his hand upon the scar-

The reaction was slow, hard to describe. Dean remembered closing his eyes, his toes curling, his hand clenching the comforter of the bed-

He heard Sam off in the distance yelling, "Cas, stop!"

Dean gave out a shuddering gasp as soon as Castiel pulled his hand away. "Holy shit!" He said, suddenly getting up from the bed and stalked straight into the bathroom.

()

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "Dean, you okay?"

Dean sighed heavily. "Yeah, Sam. I'm fine."

"Can I come in?"

Dean tossed the towel he was using to wipe his sweat to the side and leaned over to unlock the door. Sam came in, wearing what Dean liked to refer as 'Sam's angsty face.' It's the look of concern and Dean would really rather not have it directed towards him. "So, what happened out there?"

"I don't know," Dean said, and shook his head. "Cas had his hand on me and I…" He shrugged.

"Did it hurt a lot? Do you think you would be able to try it again?"

Dean threw him a look. "Try again? Why would I do that for?"

"I was talking to Cas, and he said that after touching your scar he felt… stronger. Better. He doesn't really understand it, but he thinks if he can touch your scar again, he may be able to regain some of his angelic powers. And if that is the case, that means he might be able to heal Bobby."

Dean's head jerked at him. "So what you're saying is… if Cas touches me long enough, he can become a full angel again?"

"I don't know, that's the theory," Sam looked back at the closed bathroom door. "Cas was pretty upset that he hurt you. He doesn't want to do this if it means causing you pain-"

"It doesn't hurt."

Sam blinked at him. "Uh?"

Dean rubbed his hands together, his head turned away from his brother. Sam could clearly see the blush appearing on Dean's cheeks- a blush he'd contributed to the pain. "When Cas touched me," Dean began, his voice sounding rough. "It didn't hurt. Actually… uh, quite the opposite."

"Opposite… how?"

"The _far _opposite."

Sam frowned, still not getting the allegory. What was the far opposite of pain? It took him a few seconds to realize what Dean meant, but once he did, his mouth curved up into a childish smile and he almost giggled. "Oh! You mean… when he…! And you…!"

Dean blushed harder. "The angel has magic fingers!" He growled.

Sam was laughing now. "Oh man, wait till I tell Cas-"

"_Don't! Do not tell him," _Dean pointed threateningly at him. "You do, you die."

"Okay, okay," Sam snickered. "But since it doesn't… hurt, will you come back out and allow Cas to touch the scar again?"

"I don't know, man," Dean shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, I wanna help Cas, but… it's Cas, you know?"

"It's not about Cas, Dean," Sam said, sounding a bit more serious though a grin still played on his face. "It's also about Bobby. If this can help him get his legs back, don't you think it's worth the, uh, _pain _of being touched?"

"Stop enjoying this too much."

"Look, how 'bout this? Castiel only held onto you for about a minute and already he said he felt stronger. Do you think you can handle five or ten minutes? Just until he regains enough power to help Bobby."

Dean groaned into his hands. He admitted, that sounded reasonable. Hell, and it was for Bobby. Surely he could handle Cas' hand on him for a few minutes to help the man he considered to be like a father to him?

"Okay," Dean said. "Okay, let's do this. Just one thing: Don't tell Cas how it affects me. I don't want him getting any ideas."

()

"Dean, are you sure you're alright with this?"

"I'm fine, Cas," Dean said irritably. His eyes kept darting around the room, everywhere except on Castiel. His gaze landed on a pillow and thinking, reached over and grabbed one and placed it over his lap. From the side, Sam snickered. "If it becomes too much, I'll tell you when to stop."

Sam got up to leave. Castiel looked over to him and asked, "Where are you going?"

"Oh, uh, Dean doesn't like it when I see him in pain. He rather do this alone."

Castiel frowned. "It's probably best if you stayed. If it becomes too much for Dean and if I cannot hold myself back-"

Castiel didn't understand why Sam suddenly started laughing right then and there. Dean threw him a heated glare, followed with a, "Shut up and leave, Sam!"

"I'm going, I'm going," the hunter grinned. "Oh, and Dean? I have _protection _in my bag if you need it-"

"_Leave!"_

"Damn, son of a bitch," Dean muttered, shaking his head. He glanced over to Castiel. "Well, c'mon, I don't have all day."

"Dean, if this is hurting you, we don't-"

"Yes, we do. If this can help Bobby, I can handle it. Trust me, I've had worse," he winced at the choice of words.

"Are you sure-"

"Yes! Now stop stalling and let's get this over with!"

Castiel was still unsure. He slowly moved closer to Dean. Dean closed his eyes and bowed his head. The hand clutching the pillow on his lap clenched.

Castiel moved Dean's sleeved further up, exposing the scar. Dean stiffened.

The angel hovered his hand over the scar for a brief second, waiting for any last protests. When none came, he pressed his hand against it.

Dean took in a sharp breath of air and Castiel immediately drew his hand back. "Cas," Dean growled, sounding a bit flustered. "Until I say _stop, _you keep your damn hand on."

"Yes, of course. Don't push yourself." He replaced his hand.

Dean didn't say stop, but that didn't mean Castiel couldn't tell how this was affecting him. Dean's breaths came out in short, shallow gasps. His body heat rose, his heart beat increased, and there was an obvious flush on his cheeks.

As much as Castiel was upset by Dean's distress, the way his Grace flowed through the scar was like a drink of water after years of dehydration. It made him feel whole again and he hadn't realized how much he missed it. Unconsciously, he pressed his hand down harder.

Dean suddenly arched his back, a strangled cry erupting from his lips. It was at this, Castiel decided, that it was enough and drew back.

Dean fell back onto the bed, gasping and breathing hard. "Are you alright?" Castiel asked him.

"I'm fine," Dean groaned. "I'm… oh man… did…" he licked his lips. "Did you get enough juice to help Bobby?"

Castiel thought about this. He could feel the new Grace swirling inside of him, new rivers of power. It was more than he expected to gain from today, but it wasn't enough. "No. We might need to do this three or four more times until my power is sufficient."

"Ughgh…" Dean moaned, turning away from him.

()

A/N: I might continue this, but until inspiration strikes me, this is **complete. **R/R, peeps!


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was looking forward to a hot shower and a cup of coffee. Hell, even a crappy cup of coffee sounded pretty good at the moment.

The hunter sniffled noisily, hunching his shoulders against the biting winds. In one hand he held lunch (a couple of turkey sandwiches and chips) and with the other, fished out the key to their hotel room. He shivered as he placed the key into the lock, another harsh wind coiling down his back. He turned the door handle and walked in.

Dean was hunched over on himself, his hands gripping the pillow in front of him tightly. A bright red flush colored his cheeks and ears and a deep animalistic groan escaped from his lips. Castiel was sitting on his left, his hand gripping that infamous scar. The angel shifted his hold and Dean moaned.

Sam closed the door. Suddenly standing outside in this crap weather didn't seem so bad.

He endured for a good fifteen minutes, stomping his feet and rubbing his hands. He kept playing with the idea of dashing in and grabbing the keys to the Impala, but the idea of seeing _that _again made him keep his distance.

Sam experimentally opened the door. When he saw only Dean, no Castiel, he walked in. "You okay?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," Dean muttered, his voice rough. "I don't think I can do this three more times."

"It's for Bobby."

"Bobby is _not _a face I should be thinking of during these sessions!"

Sam laughed and took out the now very cold sandwiches from the plastic bag. His giggling stopped when his eyes wandered to the pillow on Dean's lap. "Dean… is that _my pillow?"_

"Uh?" He glanced down. He smirked. "Well, Sammy, it looks like it is."

"Dude! At least use your own!"

"Give me one good reason why I should."

()

Castiel pulled his hand away.

Dean gave a slight gasp as the sensations abruptly ended. That was barely thirty seconds. He looked over to Castiel, who was now moving to the other side of the room. "Please tell me that you regained enough Grace to help Bobby."

"No, I haven't."

"Okay," he waited for Castiel to move back. The angel did not. "So, what's going on? You got a cramp or something?"

"I can't keep hurting you, Dean."

Dean nearly snorted. He was glad to note that Sam kept his promise and had not told the angel of how the scar really affected him. Heck, even Dean found it a bit funny that the only person who wasn't in on all of this was the one who touched him.

However, it was Castiel who wasn't laughing. "Cas, really, it's not as bad as I make it out to be. I'm dramatic is all. Now c'mon, let's get this over with so-"

"I've seen how this affects you," Castiel interrupted. Dean jerked at this. Shit, had he caught a glimpse of what happens under the pillow? "You may say it doesn't hurt that much, but I am clearly affecting your judgment of me."

"Aw, shit, Cas-"

"I need you to trust me, Dean. But after these sessions, you say you're fine but you avoid me. You keep your distance, you refuse to talk to me-"

"Seriously. It's not that bad."

"Then look at me in the eye when you say that."

Dean hadn't even realized he'd been staring at the floor this whole time. Slowly, deliberately, Dean raised his head and met Castiel's blue eyes head-on. That intense stare made him internally squirm. "I'm fine," he said, emphasizing the words. "It's not that bad."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Liar."

Dean dropped his gaze and sighed frustrated. "Cas-"

"I wish to help Bobby Singer, I do. But first and foremost, I need you to trust me, Dean. Your body language tells me you do not and your trust is something I cannot risk losing. Not now. I'm sorry."

Castiel turned his back to him and Dean knew the moment he blink, the angel would be gone. He tossed aside the pillow, rose from the bed and quickly grabbed Castiel by the arm before he vanished. "Whoa, whoa, seriously? You're going to leave because you don't like how I've been acting towards you?"

"I don't like how you always flinch when I'm near you. Your body is more honest than you are."

Dean really wished he'd stop talking about his body. "I'll get over it."

As if to emphasize his point, Castiel shot out his hand towards Dean's scar and the hunter flinched back. Dean mentally cursed himself as Cas pulled away. "Pain is pain. And I do not wish to inflict it upon you, no matter the form it takes. This is something you obviously will not _get over_."

Oh, _God. _All Dean wanted was to help Bobby. And if that meant letting Castiel believe these sessions were painful, what the hell. Castiel gets his Grace back, Bobby gets his legs back, nobody gets hurt, its a win-win. Except Dean hadn't accounted for was that Castiel felt _guilty._

In another time, in another place, Dean might've felt humbled of Castiel's loyalty to him, but at the moment, it was just wrong.

"Cas," Shit. Was he really going to tell him? "You're… you're right. I am lying… It, uh… doesn't hurt."

Castiel finally turned towards him. Dean felt his heart beat a little faster, as if the angel's hand was placed back on his shoulder. Except Cas's arms were by his sides. Nobody was touching him. "What?"

Dean sighed. "It doesn't hurt. At all. It's actually… feels quite nice."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

Despite Castiel's innocence, Dean had to remind himself his angel friend wasn't an idiot. He can put two and two together and it wasn't long before Castiel blinked in realization. "Do you mean I've been sexually satisfying you?"

Where was a hole when you needed one?

'Sexually satisfying' wasn't the words he would use, but yeah, basically. God, the way Cas said that… Dean hoped his face wasn't as red as he thought it was. "Geez, don't put it so abruptly."

When Dean took Castiel to that whore house, he was laughing so hard he couldn't see straight. It was hilarious to see Cas, in a grown man's body, acting so flustered and _scared. _Dean can admita newly sexual experience can be scary and he had enough common sense not to mock the poor guy too much.

But the look that overtook Castiel's face, one of shock and embarrassment, Dean felt the urge to laugh all over again. "O-oh," the angel said finally. His cheeks tinged pink.

"You see now?" Dean moved closer. "You're not hurting me. No biggie." He reached out to grab Cas's hand and he moved further back. "What now?"

"It's still wrong."

Dean was going to kill someone. He was frustrated enough by the necessity of the act and the overwhelming urge to run very fast in the other direction. He did it because it had to be done. It was embarrassing as hell, this might haunt him for years to come, but it was for a good cause. He had no idea what was Castiel's beef. "How is this wrong?"

"It feels like rape."

"Rape," Dean snorted humorlessly. "Jesus Christ, Cas. Get your damn mind out of the gutter. This isn't rape. I'm _willing _to do this." Before Castiel had a chance to speak, Dean grasped his wrist and shoved his hand to his shoulder. Castiel's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles scraping the scar. Dean did not let go. "I'm willing. I know you don't want to hurt me and you're not. It's okay."

Dean had the sinking feeling that there was more to this than Castiel believing he was inflicting rape. Dean was curious, of course, but if this situation got any more dramatic, he was going to grow a uterus.

Slowly, Castiel's hand opened and his palm curled over the scar. Dean immediately gave a hiss at the sudden sensation, though did not relent his hold on Castiel's wrist.

It was foreplay basically. Never ending foreplay. The sensations were subtle, constant, and they stretched across Dean's skin like electricity. And as much as he hated to admit it, it felt good. It felt damn good. The unfortunate side-affect was Dean never reached the _end_. Nor did he ever allow himself to finish after the angel had left. It felt wrong- heck, it probably was wrong.

Maybe Dean had an idea where Castiel was coming from. And if the angel had any doubts how this was affecting him, he knew now. Dean stood there, with no pillow to cover his excitement.

Oh, Castiel was flustered. The blush had reached his ears and Dean was amused to note that his friend was more composed when he'd thought he was inflicting pain.

Aw shit, Dean thought as a sudden realization came to him. He'd been so focused on how this affected him… "Cas," he groaned, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Are you in pain?"

His blue eyes were skittish. "No."

"Oh… you mean-"

"It is not what you're thinking of," he said dryly, keeping his eyes elsewhere. "Getting my Grace back… it makes me feel… whole again. It feels right."

"I thought you said it felt like rape."

Cas tried to jerk his hand back. Dean held strong. "Does it, Dean? Do you feel like I am violating you in some way?"

"When Zachariah took my memories away, replaced it with false ones, _that _felt like rape, Cas," Dean grunted. "What you're doing here, it's awkward and embarrassing as hell but it's nothing that'll traumatize me. I'm fine."

Castiel seemed to relax at this. His hand, stiff as board, slowly the joints calmed and made themselves more comfortable against Dean's shoulder. Dean felt the angel's reaction and pulled his hand away. Castiel made no effort to run again and Dean took that as a sign.

"How many more sessions until you're able to help Bobby?"

"If you can withstand fifteen more minutes, this will be our last one."

"Fifteen minutes?"

Castiel nodded. "Do you wish to move to the bed?"

Dean wondered if the angel had any idea what he said but didn't bother to point it out. He nodded, kept his head low and stalked towards his bed. He snatched up the pillow again and covered his lap.

Castiel sat down next to him. His blues eyes darted over the pillow and gratefully said nothing. He raised his hand over the scar. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

It was one thing when Castiel thought he was causing him pain. Dean had no problem voicing the occasional gasp or moan because, hey, the angel didn't know. But now that Cas _did _know, the dial on the embarrassment level turned up about three more times. Dean gritted his teeth and swallowed every grunt, every groan, not willing to let Castiel hear him.

And for a while, stubborn determination worked. He was able to control his breathing and kept the shakes of his body to a minimum.

Except this wasn't like the other sessions. The other sessions lasted maybe five, eight minutes tops. Castiel had his hand on Dean for nearly eleven minutes now and the sensations were getting stronger with each passing second.

It was too much for him. "Cas?" Dean mumbled, cradling his head in his right hand. "I… I think we may need to stop."

Castiel didn't answer him.

"Cas?" Dean lifted his head. His eyes grew wide.

Castiel was _glowing. _Not, 'I'm six months along in my pregnancy' glowing, literally glowing. Blue light outlined his whole body and it _pulsed. _His hair and clothes danced, as if there was wind inside of the hotel. Cas himself looked drugged, his eyes half-closed and his mouth slightly opened. That same pure light shined from inside of his mouth and eyes, growing brighter with each heartbeat.

His hand clamped down harder.

Dean tried to pull away, slightly unnerved by the light show next to him. Except it was like Castiel's hand had fused to his skin, making it impossible for them to part. The sensations were reaching to a breaking point, to which Dean reached over to grasp Cas's coat- to pull him closer or to shove him away, he didn't know. "Cas… Cas…!"

The door to the room opened. Sam walked in, his eyes widening to the scene and dropped the bag of Chinese food he was holding. "Oh my god!"

An orgasm ripped through Dean with such force, he went blind. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear, he couldn't think. Just utter unknown bliss kept him in a state of euphoria, his body floating in a sea of pure white and physical pleasure.

When his eyesight returned, he found himself laying boneless on the bed, his body still humming with tingles. He was also aware the front of his pants were wet and he needed a new pillow.

Castiel was standing in the middle of the room, flexing his fingers and stretching his shoulders. He was no longer glowing. The air, however, was unnaturally thick and his trench coat bellowed out behind him in a slow lazy manner.

Sam was still gaping at the angel, as if he had never seen anything like him.

Castiel turned to Dean. "Thank you Dean," he said, his blue eyes practically dancing. "I'm off to Bobby's now."

And like that, he was gone. There was a moment of stunned silence from both Winchesters.

Sam snapped out of his first. "Dean!" He said, dashing over to his brother's side. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Can you get me a new pair of pants?"

"What, why?" Sam glanced down at the pillow. He immediately jumped back. "Oh, gross, dude!"

"Not my fault," Dean sighed, pushing himself up. A pair of pants and boxers were thrown at his face. "Jackass," he said, pulling them off his head. "So do you think Cas did it? Heal Bobby?"

"Did you see him? He was shining so brightly, it was like he had flashlights hidden under his coat! Dean, do you realize how crucial this could be to us? How strong Cas could get-"

"Hold your horses," Dean held up a hand. "First of all, I want a shower. Secondly, we don't know if this scar is a surplus or an endless supply. After Cas helps Bobby, he shouldn't touch me unless it's an emergency otherwise we might run out of mojo."

"Yeah sure…" he made a face. "Go take your shower. And burn that pillow."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

()

Dean came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. A mist of steam was left in his wake as he ran a hand through his slightly damp hair. "Sam, didja hear from-"

Dean stopped in his tracks. Bobby was sitting on one of the beds, wheelchair nowhere in sight, talking to Sam. When he saw Dean, he smiled.

The older hunter leaned forward, placed his hands on his knees and pushed. Slowly he rose from the bed, his knees supporting him effortlessly. "Hey Dean."

Dean suddenly laughed and rushed forward, grasping Bobby into a hug. "Bobby!" He grinned happily. "You look good, man. How does it feel to be back on your feet?"

"It feels good," he said, pulling away. "All thanks to your angel there." He nodded behind Dean.

Castiel was sitting down at the kitchen table, breathing rather hard but looking pleased. "Cas, what's wrong?" Dean frowned.

"Healing takes a lot of power," Castiel gasped. "I just need… to catch my breath."

"Yeah, that's something I don't understand," Bobby spoke up. "I thought you were cut off from heaven's power. So how…?"

Dean lifted the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the scar. "Apparently this scar has a direct line to angel mojo. As soon as Cas touches it, he stops being Bruce Banner and turns into the Hulk."

Bobby gaped. "That's amazing! Can I see?"

Sam, Dean and Castiel threw up their hands. _"No."_

()

A/N: You know what? I'm having so much fun with this, I might just continue it. But for now, once again, it's **complete. **R/R, peeps!


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was going have to give one of his 'special talks' to Cas the next time he saw him.

He didn't mind he was an angel battery. Sure, it was awkward and weird and it gave Sam enough cannon fodder to last for _years- _but if it meant having a power house angel supporting your back, who cares?

Except Castiel wouldn't stop touching him.

The first time it happened, the Winchesters had just checked into a hotel.

Dean's phone rang. "Where are you?"

"Cas?" Dean spoke, throwing Sam a shrug. "Austen, Texas. Blake Resident hotel, room 163."

At this point in time, Dean had gotten used to Cas showing up mere inches away from his face. So it didn't surprise him the next moment he blinked, his eyesight was full of angel. Dean clicked his phone off. "So, Cas, what's-"

Castiel said nothing and shoved his hand up into the sleeve of Dean's shirt.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean cried out, his knees buckling. Cas quickly caught him, wrapping an arm around his waist, holding him up. He didn't relinquish his hold on the scar and Dean awkwardly trembled in his arms.

Cas never blinked, never said a word. Dean wasn't sure if he should pull away, say something, or maybe he should just punch the damn guy. Sam was pointedly ignoring them, twisting his body to look at the wall.

Castiel only held on for about thirty seconds before saying, "Thank you, Dean." Cas dropped him on the bed and was gone.

"What the hell was that?" Dean breathed loudly. Sam shrugged his shoulders, still refusing to turn around.

The second time it happened, Castiel had called Sam first. Sam momentarily forgotten what Cas did to Dean the last time he appeared and gave off their location without thinking. He jerked when a half second later he heard Dean cry out from the kitchen.

Sam rushed over, thinking maybe Dean had cut himself or dropped something. Instead, he found his brother pushing himself up against the wall, trying weakly to get away from Cas' hand.

"Thank you," Cas said a minute later and vanished, leaving a red flushed Dean in his wake.

Dean didn't mind he was an angel battery. What he did mind, however, how Cas only came to him for a quick, 'pick-me-up.'

It was more than Dean cared to admit out loud. For one thing, he hadn't been with a girl for nearly two months now. And with Cas showing up every other week, forcing his body to ache for release- release he did not allow himself to have- he was more than a little frustrated.

It happened two more times before Dean decided that was enough.

"Stop right there!" Dean jerked back, throwing his hands up.

Cas already had his arm outstretched towards him. He blinked and slowly lowered it. "What's wrong?"

"This," Dean indicated to Cas' hand. "Can you at least buy me a drink first?"

Castiel blinked at him. "You wish for me to buy you alcohol beforehand?"

"No! I just…" He sighed loudly. "Just don't pop out of nowhere and violate me whenever you wish!"

"You said this wasn't rape."

"It's not. But I would prefer it if you didn't grab me without my knowing."

"Oh…"

The way Castiel frowned that made Dean wonder if the angel really understood. Cas suddenly looked up to him, and said very slowly as if speaking to a child, "Dean, I'm going to touch you now." He raised his hand.

Dean slapped it away. "No. You don't understand. You can't just simply touch me whenever you feel like it."

God, that sounded so girly.

"You are my only power source," Cas continued in that slow tone. "Because of you, Dean, I've been able to extend my search twice its size. I haven't felt tired in _weeks. _Yesterday, I exorcised over three dozen demons. Touching the scar even for a few seconds gives me great energy. Why don't you want me to touch it, when I 'feel like it?'"

Dean almost made a face. "Well… when you put it like that…"

"You said you did not mind."

"Yeah, well-"

"Then what is wrong?"

Dean felt his cheeks go red. Could the angel be really that ignorant? "Have you forgotten the effect the scar has on my body?"

"Of course not," Castiel cocked his head. "Why? Has it started causing you pain?"

"No… Look," Dean licked his lips. Really? Was he going have to explain blue balls to an angel? "When you… force my body to react like that, it gets very frustrating. Especially if it happens a lot. It's like you're stimulating an itch I can't scratch."

Dean could see Castiel understood as his cheeks tinged pink. He was actually quite proud of that metaphor: it was understandable and not overly crude.

"I see…" Cas' eyes narrowed in thought. He seemed to be deep in concentration, the wheels in his head clearly turning. He looked up. "Alright, then."

It was barely a warning. Dean flinched as Cas' hand slipped up his shirt sleeve to clutch his shoulder. The sensations came quickly as they always did, making his skin tingle and his blood surge. "Cas, what-?"

"Scratching the itch," Castiel explained easily. Without prompt, he slipped a hand around Dean's torso and pulled him closer. His hand clamped down harder.

Dean cried out, the sudden surge of sensation whisking away all rational thought. _Feel, _his body pleaded with him. _Please, just shut up and feel._

And for a minute, he did. He leaned into Castiel, his hands grasping his coat, his head buried in his shoulder. "God," Dean muttered, beyond caring who heard him.

He felt warm breath on his ear. "You need to stop cursing so much."

Cas' voice may have taken a few seconds to get through the fog of Dean's mind, but once it did, three sharp words brought him back to reality.

_Male, _was one.

_Angel, _was the other.

Then, _Cas._

Dean shoved hard, immediately breaking contact between them. It was like pushing against a wall and Dean only succeeded in pushing himself away. He stumbled, caught himself, pointed an accusing finger as Castiel and said, "That's _not _what I meant."

Castiel sighed, like he had a reason to be frustrated. "Then what?"

"Cas, we don't even know if the scar has unlimited power! You may be draining the only reservoir we have."

"I-" he closed his mouth. "I didn't think of that."

Oh thank god. In reality, Dean just threw that reason out there. It seemed like Cas was determined to twist all of Dean's words around. Was this really ignorance or was Cas deliberately doing this on purpose?

"Okay," Dean breathed. "So… you'll stop grabbing me at random times?"

"Yes."

"No more popping in just to get your fix?"

"Yes."

He sounded like he didn't like it. That was his problem. Dean had enough on his plate without having to deal with angel issues or sexual frustrations. Both at the same time was going to drive him bat shit crazy.

The tightness in his pants was barely going away.

"Only in emergencies," Dean stated.

"Only in emergencies," Cas agreed.

()

Dean finally found his 'Busty Asian' babe.

Akane was only 5'3, though everything else about her body made up for it. Luscious red lips, long eyelashes, jet black hair, full hips and breasts so perky it looked as if they were being held by string.

Dean gave a silent 'thank you' to the ceiling. After spending a month with Castiel forcing him to 'stand at attention,' he was more than willing to grab some random girl off the street and have at it. Be her ugly, or stupid, at that point, Dean wasn't choosey.

Meeting Akane was like finding the needle in a haystack. And it took everything Dean had not to throw her over bar and have his way with her. "Why don't we…" Akane breathed into his ear, lusty and deep, making him shiver. "Go back to my place?"

"Yes," Dean smirked at her. "God yes."

His cell phone chirped.

_No, _he mentally moaned. _God no._

"Sam?" he growled angrily into his phone. "This better be important."

"Dean, it's Cas. He's hurt. You better get over here and quick."

"Is he dying?"

"_Dean."_

"Okay, okay, I'm coming." Dean flipped his phone closed and tried not to scream. Instead, he gave Akane a lazy, forced smile and said, "Sorry, babe. Duty calls."

Castiel _better _be dying.

()

Well, he wasn't dying. But he did look like hell.

"Jesus Christ," Dean breathed when he saw him. "Is one of your _ears _missing?"

Cas was hunched over on himself, eyes blacken in, his face bruised. His left ear, Dean wasn't sure, was nothing more than a bloody mess on the side of Cas' face. His arm stuck out at a strange angle, the skin from his knuckles were completely gone and Sam was holding a blood soaked towel to his calf.

"What the hell did you do?" Dean said as he stripped off his jacket and outer shirts. "Lose a fight against a grizzly bear?"

"Trolls, actually," Cas groaned. Dean sat on the bed and gently lifted one of Cas' bloodied hands to his scar. "And I didn't lose."

"I'll give you guys some privacy," said Sam.

Dean threw him a dirty look, not because Sam had said it in a suggestive way, but because he said it very gently. Very quietly, as if Sam was leaving the room during an intimate moment.

The irony in that made Dean's stomach clench.

The sensations came slowly this time and Dean had to fight against the shivers that ran up and down his spine. He threw Castiel a side-ways glance and watched, slightly disgusted, as Cas' ear regrew itself.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean hissed, turning away. "You need to stop putting yourself in these dangerous situations."

"Had to," Cas groaned as the skin on his knuckles healed. "They were trying to eat campers."

The pleasure was lazy this time around and on any other day, Dean might've been able to ignore the sensations. Except Dean had already geared up to be with Akane tonight and his body wanted that release.

Even more, Dean forgot to grab a pillow.

Cas must've seen him because he suddenly angled his body away from Dean's. It made gripping the scar that much more awkwardly, forcing his fingers to dig into the skin while his palm only brushed the surface. "Dean" Cas began, still not facing him. "If you need to… ah, _finish, _I can, or I don't mind if you need to…"

Dean glared at him. "What, Cas? Are you actually giving me permission to-" He wasn't about to say _masturbate_ in front of an angel. Even if it was Cas. Though trying to find another euphemism for the act was marginally worse. Choking the chicken. Stroking the ego. Beating the meat. "- enter the mother land in front of you?"

"We might be here for a while," Cas explained. His arm gave a sickening pop as it realigned itself. "I understand if the need becomes too strong-"

"_No."_

Easier said than done. He was hot, too hot. His pants were too tight and dear _God, _was he ever considering taking on Castiel's offer. More than once he wished he was girl. Then at least his excitement wouldn't be so damn obvious.

Then he started wishing Cas was a girl.

Immediately that train of thought disturbed him. Would Dean really consider having sex with Cas, if his vessel had been a woman instead of Jimmy?

Even more- he was considering having sex. With Cas.

Dean wasn't completely drunk when he left the bar, but he was intoxicated. And since blood had vacated his brain long ago, really, what happened next should've been expected.

Dean lifted his arm and punched Cas right across the face.

Which Dean immediately regretted. Jesus, did he break his hand?

Castiel broke contact immediately, despite his wounds had not completely healed. He pulled his hand back, frowning.

"You're creeping the hell out of me," Dean hissed at him. He got off the bed, nursing his throbbing hand. He relished the pain; it distracted him from what was going on downstairs. "Why are you so insistent about me…" Aw, fuck with beating around the bush. "… reaching orgasm? Why can't you just ignore it?"

"Because, Dean-" Castiel snapped and immediately cut himself short, looked away. Dean realized it might be because little Dean was still standing at attention. He quickly sat down on Sam's bed, grabbing his pillow and placed it over his lap.

"Yeah?" Dean encouraged him to continue.

"I understand I shouldn't use the scar lightly, that its power may be limited," he was still not looking at Dean. "But when I touch you… for me, it's not pleasure. Its home," Dean flinched slightly as Cas suddenly turned towards him, that kick puppy look still on his face. "You feel like home, Dean."

Dean understood this. Hell, Castiel practically told him this long ago. "Still doesn't explain why you're so eager to make me reach Nirvana."

"You don't enjoy the pleasure."

Of all things, _that _wasn't what Dean was expecting. "Uh, what?"

"You resist it. You ignore it. You act as if this is something to be ashamed of."

"Being an angel battery is something I'm not terribly proud of, either."

"Your frustration bleeds through. I can feel it."

As if Dean couldn't feel any more embarrassed, chalk up 'Cas-knows-how-sexually-frustrated-I-am' up to the black board. "You can feel-?"

"It taints the Grace," Castiel explained very slowly. "I've found when you're not fighting it, when you accept what's happening to you, it flows freely, pure."

Dean gaped at him. "So you're saying," he began, putting the pieces together. "If I don't fight it… it feels better?"

"Yes."

Right. Because if Dean didn't fight it, it'll probably be a hell a whole lot better.

"Cas, do you realize what you're asking me here?" Cas may be a virgin, but even virgins weren't as ignorant as he is.

"I know this makes you feel uncomfortable-"

"Fuck that. That isn't- This will change the relationship between us. I'm not sure you understand fully what you're asking."

Dean knew when sex is involved, things get very complicated. Sometimes it makes things simpler, but those instances were way too far in between. And while Dean was quite sure Cas wasn't asking for sex, jerking off in front of him wasn't really all that different.

Dean thought about telling him to go screw himself, then he actually looked at Cas. Noted his still bruised face, his torn clothes, and _fuck- _his leg was still bleeding. Dean remembered how slow the process was taking because he was fighting the sensations every inch of the way.

Cas must've seen the look on his face because he then said quietly. "You don't have to do anything. Just let go."

Dean took in a shuddering breath. Yeah. Sure. You don't have to masturbate, just allow Cas to bring you to orgasm. Sure. Whatever.

How the hell does he keep finding himself in these situations?

"Alright," Dean resigned, moved from Sam's bed to sit back next to Castiel. He kept the pillow with him. "Alright."

Cas' hand slid up Dean's arm, slowly and softly like a lover- _he fought to keep such thoughts away, except, wasn't the whole point was to stop fighting? _– and gripped the scar lightly.

The sensations came as they always did. This time around, Dean didn't bite his lips, grit his teeth or clench his hands. Instead, he breathed out slowly and closed his eyes.

His body had been craving this and now that he finally stopped denying what it wanted, the bastard became greedy.

Everything just explodes. Dean cried out, not bothering to muffle the sound. It was almost painful, the way the sensations engulfed him, stealing all sense away.

By the time his eyesight clears, he found himself flat on his back on the bed. Cas was gone and Dean is grateful. He wasn't sure if he could stand looking at the angel in the eye.

The front of his pants was soaked- again- and Sam's pillow was ruined- again.

And it suddenly felt like Dean was traveling down a road he wasn't going to be able to get off of.

()

A/N: Love writing this. R/R, peeps.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Fair warning peeps, this chapter gets a little filthy. In the beginning, I'm sure some of ya'll noticed, that I was hesitant to use certain words/sentences because I really didn't want to piss off the censors. But trying to keep things pg13-ish was slowly driving me mad. So I said, "Screw it" and wrote what I really wanted to write.

Brief nudity, dirty talk and slang up ahead.

R/R, please.

()

It was getting worse.

Cas kept his promise and only touched Dean if he had to. He only took what he needed and did not push the issue unless it was necessary. Hell, even Dean was getting desensitized to it all. He was finding himself forgoing the pillow at times because Cas had the decency to look away. He sometimes even offered his own arm to the angel if he looked a bit tired or drained.

Except now Dean's traitorous body developed a few bad habits.

It started out small: even before Cas' hand made contact, Dean got an erection. It should've been expected, really, especially the way Dean kept denying himself release. Of_ course _his body would anticipate Cas' hand since it was the only pleasure Dean's had for a while now. Then it slowly got worse.

Soon, all it needed was Cas to stand close to him.

Then all it needed was Cas to be in the same room.

Then all it needed was a glance at something that _appeared _to be a tan trench coat, which made for a really awkward moment when Dean was trying to shop for new shirts at Walmart.

Dean didn't tell Sam any of this because he's given his little brother enough reasons to make bad sex jokes. Sometimes Sam would just glance down at his shoulder and start giggling like a little girl, the bitch.

But he wasn't going to think about any of that, not tonight. He'd made Sam swear, under the threat of having urine mixed into his toothpaste, to not disturb him for any reason. Tonight was his night.

Emily was dark skinned, toned, and smelled _so fuckin' good _Dean could literally spend hours just sniffing her. Her tongue was so deliciously sweet that it was torture for him to pull away so he could nip at her rib cage and lick at her nipples.

She was just as enthusiastic as he. Her hands were expertly messaging his back and she found that special spot underneath Dean's ear, turning into putty with a few broad strokes of her tongue. Everything was perfect… except…

Emily's hand trailed down and dug into his boxers. She pulled away from kissing Dean's neck with a confused glance. "Um," she started. "Are you okay?"

No, he wasn't okay. Here Dean was, on his back with this gorgeous girl on top of him and he was limp as a wet noodle. "I'm fine," he said with a grin. He tried to hide the growing panic. He reached up to kiss her and she let him. "C'mon, let's keep going. Don't worry, I always rise to the occasion."

It was a cheap joke, but it made Emily smile nonetheless. She lowered herself between his legs, determined to help.

Needless to say, Dean failed to rise to the occasion.

Dean made up some bull about being too tired or too drunk. Emily sympathetically nodded as she scribbled down her number for him, telling him they could go out for lunch later, maybe.

Maybe not. As soon as she left, Dean threw her number into the trash and spent the rest of the night wishing he could kill something.

"Cas is ruining my sex life."

Dean had deliberately waited till Sam took a long swing of coffee before dropping that. As embarrassing as it was to admit that, it was equally satisfying to watch Sam choke and sputter. Bitch deserved it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam gasped, shaking his head at him. "I didn't need to know that."

"Yeah, well, something needs to be done or else I'm going to suffer from blue balls for the rest of my life."

Sam clapped his hands over his ears. "Oh, GOD! Stop talking. I don't want to hear this!"

Dean leaned over and used his spoon to roughly rap it across Sam's knuckle. "I'm not joking, Sam," he said as Sam flinched and pulled his hand away from his ear. "Cas is… somehow confusing the neurons in my brain to react differently."

"That doesn't make any sense," Sam said sourly. "What do you want me to do? Why don't you talk to Cas about it?"

"That's the problem!" Dean nearly slammed his fist down upon the table. He caught himself, sobered and said in a much calmer tone. "I can't talk to Cas, otherwise… his presence does things that I can't-"

"Dean, are you saying Cas turns you on?" Sam snickered, clearly meant it as a joke. But when Dean's cheeks pinked, Sam's laughter immediately died. "What? Are you serious?"

"It's not… It's not really Cas!" Dean explained quickly to Sam's facial expression. "It's association. You know, how a certain smell can trigger a memory response?"

"So what you're saying is, by looking at Cas, it triggers a… _happy _response?"

Sam is too damn smart for his own good. "Yeah."

Sam laughed. Hard and loud and obnoxiously. During this jolly time, Dean got up and took a beer out of their mini-fridge and emptied half of it in one swing. It was only ten in the morning, but he needed a drink. When Sam kept chuckling, Dean muttered, "I hope you pull something."

"Okay. Okay… _okay," _Sam choked as he tried to control himself. "Dean, look, you knew from the start how this was going to go. You should've known better."

"So what, you're saying this is my fault?"

"What I'm saying is that you should probably find ways to keep your mind occupied while Cas re-juices. Meditate, put your hand in a giant bowl of ice… heck, squeeze one out before Cas touches you."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "You sound like you know something about this."

"Jess wouldn't let me touch her until five months after we started dating."

"Ah."

()

Dean never really thought about directing his thoughts to something else. He was mostly a 'I'll endure until it's over' kind of guy.

So first thing first: the ice bowl. It was the easiest and most effective weapon to use, other than a cold shower. So the moment Castiel showed up, Dean immediately went to the kitchen to get himself a bowl of ice water.

When Dean woke up a few minutes later, he found Castiel gone, the front of his pants wet, and his hand numb. It took nearly a half hour to get feeling back.

Second choice: Meditation. Dean knew nothing about meditation beyond what he's seen in various kung-fu movies. Dean wasn't a hundred year old Chinese martial arts master who could break walls with his pinky. He even went on youtube, watched a few videos dedicated to meditation and found every one pointless. He couldn't achieve peace through breathing exercises. Dean was a guy who found his peace through music and a good beer.

So that's what he did. He forwent the beer, because drinking before hand-porn (As Sam dubbed it) was not a good idea. Dean instead snatched Sam's ipod, found a song of the Eagles and blasted it while Castiel touched him.

Now Dean has to turn the radio every time an Eagle song came on.

With those two suggestions shot down, Dean was left with only one more option.

When Dean was a teenager, this was _always _an option. It made him calmer before hunts, after hunts, and during times when certain conservative towns either refused him or didn't carry condoms in their shops.

Things were a little different now. A few months ago, Dean wouldn't have minded taking a few extra long minutes in the bathroom. But that was when he could easily be turned on by the sight of a woman. Not… Cas.

And he was _not _about to jack off to the thoughts of Castiel, angel of the Lord. Dean was pretty sure there was a special hell for people like that.

Unfortunately, his body had other plans.


End file.
